Skittles Own(s) My Heart

CHAPTER 21

"Yeah yeah, now just say that to crawl your way out of the 'I ditched my best friend for a boy' conversation." I gape at him and slap his arm, "DID NOT!" He nods and chuckles, "Whatever you say, ditcher."

I shake my head and chuckle at my best friend, the only guy I know who will never leave me and I can trust without a single doubt in mind.

xxx

At night as I'm having my dinner, alone again, I get a text from dad saying that he would be home late and i roll my eyes, shutting off my phone. Why does he even feel the need to message me about it still? It's the same thing everyday.

I twirl my spaghetti in my fork and stare at it, with all the love in my heart. I swear whoever invented spaghetti was a blessing to the earth. Or is it is? Is the person still alive? Hm, I'll google it up. 

Just as I click search, my doorbell rings multiple times. I scrunch my eyebrows and keep my fork down, walking to the door.

Who is coming over at 9:00 PM? I look through the peep hole and see yellow. If this is Liam playing his same trick again, I won't hesitate to kill him. Best friend or not.

"Who's there?" I ask in a confident voice. "Heelllloooo" A lazy voice drags out from outside. I raise my brow. That voice sounds eerily familiar and extremely intoxicated. "Liam?" I ask, pressing my ear to the door.

"Who is Liam, Skiddl-ooh white walls. Is it made of marshmallow?" My eyes widen when I recognize the voice as Luke's outside...giggling. I slam open the door, but he pays no attention to me, too engrossed in trying to taste if the wall is really made of marshmallow or not.

Ok gross.

"Luke." I call his name and he turns slowly towards me, "Skiddles." He grins, walking over and throwing his arms around my shoulders, resting on them. I stumble from his weight, but balance myself in time.

Before anything else, I take him inside and shut the door, praying that dad doesn't return now. Seeing Luke in this state, will not paint a very good picture about his image to dad.

I sit him down on the chair at the head of the dining table and sit on the one adjacent to it.

"Luke, why are you so...drunk?" I ask softly and he looks at me, with lazy eyes and chuckles, "You're ca-yootttt." He drags out and I blink. Okay then, I'm not getting any sensible answers now, might as well not try.

His gaze flits to some oranges kept in the fruit bowl and he stands up, stumbling a little. I get up to catch him but he smiles and walks over to the bowl. "You know?" He says, holding up one orange, "An orange is just like a minia-miniat-" 

"Miniature?" I ask and he smiles, "Ah yes. An orange is just a minia-pompkin." He starts giggling at his own joke and I can't help but join. "You make a very dumb drunk you know that? Oh wait, that's what you are everyday." I laugh, but don't hear any response from his side.

I look at him and see him looking down, "I am?" He asks softly. Oh god don't tell me his drunk self took it seriously. A dumb, funny and emotional drunk. Wow. Luke Johnson has no control of himself right now.

"You're not Luke, I was kidding." I say and he smiles, the most innocent and adorable 'left-dimple-showing' smile.

He looks at my plate, "Pasta?" His stomach rumbles and I chuckle, "Spaghetti but yeah. You want some?" His eyes light up and he nods, walking slowly to the table.

He sits down and I go to the kitchen to get him a fork. "Where you going?" He asks, scrunching his brows. "Getting you a fork. Wait a minute." I reply but he shakes his head, "I can use yours."